Never Want To Say It's Love
by preshea
Summary: He wondered about Sam sometimes. FreddiexSam UPDATE 7.29.09
1. Chapter 1

He wondered about Sam sometimes.

Not often, but enough. She was hard to get close to, to figure out and Freddie often felt it was pointless considering the endless insults she hurled at him day after day. He was tempted to give up on her completely, to interact only when necessary for Carly's sake but there was always that _something_ in her eyes that kept drawing him back in. A deep, wounded look that sometimes flashed through her light blue eyes, a glimpse so fleeting it was almost impossible to catch but Freddie had seen it and now, he couldn't stop going back to find out exactly what it was that made Sam, well, Sam.

Maybe it was in his DNA. His mother's overconcerned streak. Maybe it was because his honest curiousity was the only thing that made Sam even a little bit crazy and any revenge was better than none. Maybe it was because he cared in ways he didn't want to examine too closely.

It didn't matter. It kept him there through the insults and general abuse. What didn't kill him made him strong, a Fencin' Benson to the core. He wondered if his grandfather would be proud or if he'd just laugh him out the circus tent. Probably the latter.

Friday had come just in time to save his sanity. Three major tests in as many days and Freddie would be grateful for the weekend. Maybe he could defrag his old laptop, add some more memory and turn an old piece of crap into a finely tuned, if obsolete, computer jalopy. He'd debated giving it to Sam as a birthday present but hesistated, knowing that she destroyed just about ever computer she'd ever touched. She was careless in ways that horrified him which might have made her more determined in her destructivness.

Freddie sighed. He was definitely thinking too much about Sam lately. Slinging his backpack on, he locked the door behind him surprised to see Carly in the hallway, impatiently tapping her foot.

"She's late again?" he asked.

Carly glanced at her watch with an expasperated expression. "It's getting worse. I'm going to have to talk to her."

"Doesn't her Mom drive her?"

Carly grimaced. "Yeah but there's something going on with her Mom. New boyfriend or something and she's becoming even less reliable."

"I hardly thought that was possible," Freddie replied drily. He heard the elevator ping open. It was Sam. "Speak of the Devil."

"Shut up, Benson," Sam grumbled. She looked tired beneath the hood of her sweatjacket. Her eyes were ringed with red which made Carly glance at Freddie with concern. "Sorry I'm late. Let's go. Mom's in a rush."

"Everything okay?" he asked, biting his tongue a second after the words came out.

Sam's head whipped in his direction. "Maybe you should look in the mirror and ask that question. Oh, wait, I forgot they haven't found a cure for you yet."

"Never mind," Freddie sighed. He adjusted his backpack. "Ready, Carly?"

Carly was still examining Sam. She nodded slowly. "Sure. You know, Sam, if it's a hassle for your Mom to give us a lift we can find another way to get to school."

Sam rolled her eyes. "It's _fine_. Come on, let's go before I get the lifetime detention award."

"You don't have that already?" Freddie quipped as they headed onto the elevator. "I'm shocked."

Sam turned to Carly as the doors closed. "How many years do you get for shoving someone down the shaft?"

XXXXXXX

School was uneventful, thank God. Freddie aced one of his tests, passed the other two with decent scores. Nothing to write home about but he was glad his mother was more concerned with his physical health than his academic progress.

Lunch was uneventful too. Unusual considering that one of Sam's great talents was causing a ruckus in the lunchroom whether it was swiping someone's lunch or dumping mashed potatoes onto the head of the biggest, nastiest kid there. The fights that often followed were epic to say the least and Carly had taken to wearing a waterproof, hooded windbreaker to lunch to protect her clothing and hair from the ensuing uproar.

Her calmness in the face of choas was one of the things Freddie liked about her. Carly was so _normal_. To someone like Freddie, raised by a mother who was always about three steps away from the nuthouse, a guy who always seemed to be the brunt of someone's mean joke, Carly's placid nature was something of a godsend. She was so pretty and sweet and regular and ...

A glob of sweet potatoes landed right on top of his untouched sandwhich. "Oh, man," he groaned with deep annoyance. Sweet potatoes didn't exactly mix well with tuna salad. He looked up and saw Sam looking somewhere over his shoulder, innocent as a newborn. He shoved his sandwhich at her in disgust. "You could have just asked for some."

Delighted, she scraped the sweet potatoes off and took a huge bite. "I didn't want _some_. I wanted all of it."

Freddie grimaced. Gratefully accepted the half sandwich Carly offered him and they continued to eat in relative peace That was until Mark Sanse came up to their table and leaned over Sam, whispering something in her ear. She turned an awful shade of white and he walked away with his friends, snickering.

Freddied stared after them. Turned back to Sam. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," Sam said, her face still pale. She shoved the sandwich aside. "Your mom makes a crappy tuna salad, by the way. Did I ever tell you that?"

Freddie nodded. "Yeah, she does." Carly looked just as concerned as he did and suddenly Freddie knew - there was something wrong here, very wrong and he was going to find out what it was. Soon.

xxxxx

tbc ...

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	2. Chapter Two

Friday night at Carly's was usually a quiet event with the first few hours spent unwinding in the kitchen as Carly cooked and Sam ate her way through the ingredients while Freddie prepared the webshow's sent-in videos for viewing. There was a good crop this week, one really clever parody of an infomercial and he'd have to ask Spencer later if it would be legal to present it as part of their show.

Soon there was the smell of garlic in the air and Freddie sniffed appreciatively. "Spaghetti?"

"Yep," Carly replied, stirring in the pan with a wooden spoon nearly as large as her arm.

Sam sat at the other end of the table, oddly quiet, her arms wrapped around herself, her hood still on. "Are you cold, Sam? I can turn the heat up," Carly called over her shoulder.

"Nah," Sam replied.

She wasn't picking at the fresh vegetables lined up on the table which was unusual for Sam. Freddie couldn't help but keep glancing at her over his laptop screen. She just wasn't herself and that weird thing with that jackass Mark Sanse this afternoon ...

"Can I stay over this weekend, Carl?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Sure," Carly replied, looking at her quizically. "Want to go and get your stuff?"

"Nah, I'm good," she said, brightening up a little. She even pulled the hood off and Freddie noticed something odd about her hair. A good chunk of it looked shorter than the rest, a ragged tuft where a long blonde curl should have been.

"What happened to your hair?"

To his surprise, Sam's lip curled with real anger. "What the hell is it with you, Benson? Are you auditioning for the new McGruff commercials or something? Leave me alone, all right?"

"Okay, okay," he said hurriedly, putting his hands up. "Calm down."

By this time Carly had come over to examine Sam's hair. "Yeah, what did happen?"

"It got caught in the blender, okay?" Sam grumbled, pulling the hood back on. "Now can we talk about something else?"

"You know how to use a blender?"

Sam looked as though she were ready to explode. "Obviously _not_. Jesus, you people."

"Forget it, Sam," Carly said, glancing at Freddie with an obvious "this isn't right" look. He nodded and she went back to her cooking. "Should I put a little red wine in here? The alcohol cooks out."

"Why not?" Freddie said, clicking onto the next video while out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam playing aimlessly with a can of tomato paste, rolling it from one side of the table to the other.

Spencer joined them for dinner later, talking loudly about his latest attempts at getting a grant between huge slurps of spaghetti. "The yo-yo sculpture was perfect for their requirements but I was beat out by a tree of Barbies. Stupid hot blondes, they always win."

"A shame," Carly said, watching Sam eat. Or, actually, not eat as she was doing the unthinkable for Sam -- she was just playing with her food, little or none of it going into her mouth. She leaned over to speak softly to her friend. "The wine? A bad idea?"

Sam shook her head. "No, it's fine. I'm ... I'm not that hungry."

"Really? Great, because I'm starving," Spencer said pouring more out from the bowl onto his plate. "I'm a starving artist, baby. Hee. A starving artist."

"Do you guys mind if I take a shower?" Sam suddenly said, rising up from the table. "I'm feeling kind of gross."

Freddie looked at her in surprise. "Without dessert?"

Carly echoed him. "Without dessert?"

"Can I have your dessert?" Spender asked around a mouthful of meatball. "If so, you are excused."

"Thanks," Sam said, shedding her hoodie on the way to the bathroom, leaving Carly and Freddie to stare at each other in consternation.

The bathroom door clicked shut. Carly shook her head. "I don't know what's wrong with her. What do you think it is?"

"I think we should ask that Mark guy," Freddie said, pushing his own plate aside. Suddenly, he wasn't hungry anymore either. He knew about that kind of laughter from guys and it never meant anything good, at least not for the girls it was aimed at.

Carly looked doubtful. "He's a huge jerk, Freddie. I wouldn't go near him. Maybe he just hurt Sam's feelings about something stupid."

"Someone hurt _Sam's_ feelings? Are you kidding me?" Freddie shook his head. "I'll take care of it."

Spencer glanced from his sister to Freddie and back again. "There's something going on here I don't have a clue about, isn't there?"

Carly sighed and nodded. "Yes, but we'll take of it."

"Okay, but if you need me ...."

"We'll throw a Barbie doll at you," Carly finished for him. "Or a yo-yo."

Spencer nodded and went back to eating. "Make that a Barbie. It's what the government wants."

xxxxxx

In the bathroom Sam let the hot water run, steaming up the room. It was easier that way, to cry in the heated fog. It would explain her red face and watery eyes, the sound of the shower would cover up her sobs.

How did that jerk find out? How did he _know_? Who had told him?

Or was it common knowledge that her mother was sleeping around with the local drug dealer and was now back on the same stuff she'd been on when Dad had threatened to take Sam away from her all those years ago. But Dad wasn't there any more to save her, instead she was alone with her addicted mother and boyfriend who could do whatever he wanted in their house, including "punishing" Sam when she protested his presence, cutting off her hair with the knife that was constantly dangling from his belt. She hadn't screamed, she hadn't done anything but run back into her room, heart pounding and shut the door, listening to her mother slur things at him from the couch.

Damn it, Mom. She'd been clean for _so long_ but this guy had changed it all. Now she didn't care, hell, she didn't know what was going on from one hit to the next and Sam was paying the price.

And of course, Freddie would notice. Sam had to laugh a little through the tears. The guy might have been a dweeb but he wasn't stupid. Of course if he found out about this, she'd never hear the end of it from him or Carly. They'd force her to do all sorts of useless stupid things, like tell the school counselor or worse, the cops. No, Sam wasn't going to go that route. She would fix this in her own way, in her own time.

That's why they could _never_ find out. No matter what.

No matter how long she had to hide it from them.

xxxxxxx

tbc ....

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	3. Chapter Three

"Hey there, big guy. Can I talk to you?"

Mark Sanse was big for his age, at least a head and a half over Freddie. He was well-known throughout the school but not for his academic standing. More for the way he easily tore apart any kid unlucky enough to cross his notoriously short temper and bad graces. He was also clever enough to hide his crimes through intimidation so any trouble he got into was always negilible.

Freddie wondered how it was that the truly bad kids always seemed to get away with it while relatively mild offenders like Sam got detention more often than not but that was neither here nor there.

He had some digging to do.

"Yeah, what is it?" Mark sauntered over, his expression suspicious. He'd never picked on Freddie before but was starting to look intrigued by the possibility. "You got a problem."

Freddie was no stranger to bullies. He'd handled them relatively well over the years through avoidance and any he couldn't avoid? He could always sic his mother on and this one would be no different. "Yeah, you know my friend? Sam?"

Mark's lips curved into a thin smile. "The blonde? She's not as hot as the other one but she's all right. What about her? Does she want some of the Markster?"

Freddie's throat constricted a little. He couldn't help the disdainful look that crossed his face. "No, she doesn't want any of the Jankster."

Mark's smile immediately faded. "Excuse me?"

It was like teasing a bull, but Freddie was irritated enough not to care. "What I want to know is what you said to her the other day at lunch. It really upset her and as her friend I'd like to know. "

"Why? If she were that good a friend she'd tell herself." Sanse laughed coarsely. "Or was she too busy giving you a Texas wedgie like your little pal Gibbie."

"I'm not messing around here," Freddie said quietly, his temper flaring to a hot simmer. "I need to know what you said to Sam and I need to know now."

The taller boy laughed again and a small crowd began to gather around them. Some of them laughed sympathetically with Sanse but the others were curious to see what would happen.

Mark's lips turned up into a mocking scowl. "And if I don't tell you?"

By this time, Freddie was nearly blind with rage. He heard his own voice answering, it sounded far away. "I think you will," he said, letting his backpack slide to the floor. He hadn't even raised his arms when Sanse grabbed him by the collar of his polo shirt.

That was all he needed. Freddie knew head-butting someone hurt, hurt lke hell but it worked and a second later Sanse was reeling against the lockers, stunned. The crowd quickly backed off, a few of the smaller kids cheering softly with Sanse's erstwhile friends looking on in horror but none of them lifted a hand to help him. Seemed like his own pals weren't too crazy about the guy and this gave Freddie heart to keep going.

Of course, a swift kick in a very bad place put a damper on Freddie's lofty plans.

The pain was so bad he couldn't even scream. He curled up in a ball on the floor and spun in agony while Sanse did his best to finish the job with kicks to any unprotected part he could find. Freddie closed his eyes, the blows becoming a blur and there were voices then, adult cries and chaos, someone strong helping him to his feet and it was over, almost as soon as it had started.

It was hours in the principal's office then, followed by his hysterical mother driving him home. All in all, not what he'd hoped for.

And he _still_ didn't know what that bastard knew.

Damn it.

xxxxxx

Freddie ended up at Carly's late that night with an ice bag on his face. He'd escaped from his mother's ministrations only after she'd passed out from exhaustive fretting. Carly and Sam were both tending to him or more like Carly tending, Sam mocking.

Mocking yes, but with a strangely kind curiousity. "So you picked a fight with Mark Sanse? Wow, I knew you were dumb but crazy too. It's amazing."

"I told you not to bother with that jerk," Carly said under her breath as she wrung out another hot compress.

"Why did you bother with him?" Sam asked suddenly. "It's not like your lunch is worth stealing."

"Nothing," Freddie said, wincing when Carly put a fresh bag of ice on his shoulder. "Let's just forget it."

Sam continued to stare at him, comprehension slowly dawning in her eyes. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it. "Yeah, maybe we should," she agreed quietly. Sam took the washcloth and wrung it out before dipping it back in the warm water. Draped it over his forehead with surprising gentleness and their eyes met then, a bond suddenly shared.

Freddie had never noticed how blue Sam's eyes were. How soft her long hair looked and he unconsciously reached out to touch a curl with his finger when a shearing burst of pain forced him to pull his arm back. "Ow!"

"Lie still, Benson," Carly said, exasperated. She shook the bottle of aspirin, two small white pills falling into her palm. "And don't tell your mother I gave you these. She'll sue me for malpractice."

He took the pills with a gulp of water. Sam still sat by his side, looking away and he couldn't stop staring at her profile. _Why won't you tell me what's wrong?_ he wondered silently._ You can trust me, I swear._

But there was nothing but silence between them that lasted until finally, thankfully, he fell asleep.

xxxxx

to be continued ....

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	4. Chapter Four

Mornings at Sam's house were the least pleasant time of the day. She had no escape except for school and there was no avoiding leaving her room for breakfast before running out the door to try and catch a cab.

Money was tight too. Of course her mother had to pick a poor drug dealer, Sam thought bitterly. She wondered if he used as well and quickly decided she didn't care. As long as she could stuff a couple of slices of bread in her mouth and hit the street, she'd be okay, at least for today.

Quietly, she opened the breadbox and grimaced as she pulled the green-tinged bread out. Damn it, now she'd have to go without, at least until her mother went shopping again although God knew when that would be.

Sighing, she rummaged through the cabinets and found a pack of Twizzlers. Breakfast of champions, she thought sadly, chewing down a few bites before chucking them. Stale as well but the sugar would keep her going. She yanked her hoodie on, sniffing at it with a frown. She'd have to do some laundry later. Maybe she'd throw some of her Mom's stuff in there too, she'd been looking dumpy lately -- whatever care she'd taken of her appearance had gone out the window as of late.

Grabbing her backpack, she swung around only to see her way blocked by ihim/i. Chris, her mom's boyfriend or enabler or whatever he was and the hair on the back of her neck automatically stood on end. Getting out of there now became imperative. "Excuse me," she said blankly, muting her usual sarcasm.

He didn't move. He wasn't a big guy, he was wiry and rat-like but surprisingly strong. His hair was close cut and there was scar on his cheek that Sam often wished to duplicate all over the rest of his ugly face. "Did you see my cell phone?"

"Nope."

He continued to stare at her. "Yeah. I think you did. Your mother told me you were a thief. Just hand it back and there won't be any trouble."

Sam shrugged. "I can't give you back what I don't have."

His lip twitched and he took a step closer, looming over Sam. "You know, I don't want to have to keep teaching you these lessons. My mother beat the shit out of me for so much as looking at her wrong."

_You had a mother? _Sam thought, but said nothing.

"But you think you can do whatever you want around here, no consequences." He moved another step closer until he was nearly up against Sam. So close she could smell his breath and there was booze on it, already.

She didn't move. A step back might inspire him to grab her, a step around him might get her shove down the stairs. "Maybe if you dial the number you'll find it."

He blinked. Gave her suspicious look before picking up the house phone and dialing. Thankfully, the cell phone rang from beneath the couch. He hung up, scowling. "So that's where you hid it. You little shit."

But he didn't do anything else and Sam took the opportunity to run like hell down the stairs and out the door, not bothering to lock it behind her. She was crying by the time she reached the taxi stand and she tried desperately to wipe her eyes and running nose on her sleeve to make it look like nothing had happened.

_Everything's fine. Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Everything's great._

She could do this. She could deal. She could.

xxxxxx

Freddie's day in school was interesting to say the least. He kept getting high-fives from kids he didn't know, winks from some of the girls. He eventually surmised that it was because of his fight with the school bully, gaining admiration even though he lost. Maybe it was because the teachers were keeping a closer eye on Sanse now, curtailing some of his activity.'

All's well that ends well, he guessed. Except that he still didn't know what was up with Sam. She'd come in today in the same dirty hoodie she'd been wearing for a week, sniffling and claiming she had a cold although it looked to his as if she'd been crying.

Sam. Crying. It was like one of those things he'd see on a show called Impossible Events but he couldn't deny that's what it looked like.

He couldn't stop thinking about it nor about the weird dreams he'd started having about her. Dreams where she was smiling at him and it felt like summer had come, all warm and beautiful. It was disturbing in a way, how happy he'd felt when he woke up as if it had really happened and how disappointed he'd been when he realized it'd been nothing more than a dream.

She'd been so pretty in his dreams too, prettier than Carly even, his ideal of feminine beauty. Not that Carly still wasn't the love of his life, he quickly corrected himself, but Dream Sam had been so beautiful and smiling and speaking so sweetly to him and ...

Freddie shook himself. This was insane. He was insane. Sam wasn't the girl he wanted. Carly was. He was just ... concerned. That was it. Nothing more.

"Are you going to stare into space all day, Benson or do I have to get a forklift to get you out of my way?"

Sam's voice and Freddie breathed a short sigh of relief. Now _that_ was the girl he knew and couldn't stand. "Do your worst." He turned around to shrug at her when he saw her eyes and once again was struck by their beauty as well as the terrible sadness lurking within. His mouth fell slightly. "Um, I mean, sorry."

Sam's expression narrowed. "Yeah, well, don't do it again." She went into her locker and pulled out a cheese and cracker packet, one that looked old enough to apply for Social Security. She tore apart the wrinkled cellophane and wolfed down its contents in one bite.

Freddie grimaced. "You'll really eat anything, won't you."

She paused, mid-chew, her mouth turning down. "Leave me alone, okay?" she said hoarsely, her eyes welling up. She looked as near to tears as he'd ever seen her and Freddie felt his heart sink to somewhere around his knees. "I'm hungry."

"Hey, I'm just kidding," he gulped. He reached out to touch her arm, holding on even as she tried to pull away. "Are you really hungry? I mean it, Sam. What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"You can't lie to me like this," he said forcefully. He refused to let her wriggle from his grasp. "I want to help you. I'm your friend and I care about you. Why won't you let me help you? Tell me what's going on. Please."

She continued to struggle in his grasp. "Get off of me! I'm fine. There's nothing wrong!"

Freddie looked at her a minute before finally letting go. "You're lying. But that's okay. You're going to tell me eventually. And I promise to be there for you when you do." He pulled his backpack higher up on his shoulders. "Just say when."

Her lips trembled. "I hate you," she ground out, her voice shaking. "Do you hear that, Freddie Benson? I _hate_ you."

Sam had never looked so frightened. Freddie couldn't understand why, but he wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms and never let go. "You're a liar, but that's okay. You can say whatever you want to me and I'll stil be here for you. Always."

With a muffled nosie, Sam yanked up her hood and ran up the stairs, leaving Freddie standing by the lockers, staring off into space. God, what had happened to him?

And what the hell was he going to do about it?


	5. Chapter Five

That evening's webshow went smoothly with Sam as her usual irrepresible self. Oddly, acting in front of the camera seemed to cheer her, the only things missing were her usual taunts of Freddie during the skits. She ignored him entirely throughout, as well after signing off. It was weird but Freddie missed the teasing -- it was definitely better than Sam ignoring him.

Carly didn't look very happy either. She disliked change in her orderly world. "Sam, could you stop not talking to Freddie, please?" she said, mouth pursed. "It's creeping me out."

"Hello, Fredward," Sam said shortly and turned back to the book she was reading.

"Hey," he sighed, putting his equipment away.

Carly rolled her eyes. "Okay, that's not what I meant, but it's a start. By the way, Sam, is your Mom going to be driving us to school anymore? She's been a no show for the past week and we'll have to change the schedule if she's not."

Sam paled a little but didn't raise her eyes from the page. "I don't think she'll be driving us any more. She's ... you know ... not in the driving mood."

"Really?" Carly walked over and yanked the book out of Sam's hand. She looked deeply annoyed and Freddie braced himself for a battle. "I didn't know you have to be in a particular mood to drive your child to school. Or pick them up." Her mouth tightened into a deep line. "Sam, I saw you hitching a ride yesterday. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Why didn't you let us bring you home?"

Freddie watched Sam's face closely as a blank mask fell over her features.

"Maybe I'm tired of riding with you two," she replied dully.

Carly wasn't buying it. "Oh, really? And you're more interested in going home with a stranger who might kill you. Gee, Sam, that makes a lot of sense." She put her hands on her hips and glared at her friend. "You need to come clean with us and do it now."

Sam's stoney expression didn't change. "I said, maybe I'm tired of you two."

"That's crap!" Carly ground out. "Sam Puckett, we've been friends for a long time and nobody knows when you're lying better than I do. You're hiding something and I want to know what it is!"

"Maybe it's none of your business!" Sam yelled back, jumping to her feet. "Maybe I don't want you to know everything about me."

A small shove followed by a much harder one and soon the two girls were going at it. Freddie tried to intervene but was thrown back by two sets of wildly flailing arms. The battle was more desperate than vicious, with tugging at clothes and little more, a wrestle of frustration rather than anger. Freddie heard a ripping sound and Sam's dirty hoodie came off by the sleeve, torn almost entirely in half.

Carly stood with it dangling in her hand, gaping at her friend in horror. Freddie peeked over Carly's shoulder as a cold chill of shock snaked down his spine. Sam's arm was mottled with dark bruises from her shoulder down to her wrist, her normally flawless skin covered in a mosiac of pain.

"Oh my God, Sam," Carly gasped, reaching out to her, but was quickly rebuffed by a furious Sam.

"Get away from me!" she cried, snatching back the hoodie, trying without success to pull its rent tatters back on. "Can't you leave me alone? Why do you keep bothering me?"

"Who did that?" Freddie asked quietly, but on the inside he was seething. If it was who he thought it was ...

"I got into a fight. At school. With ... someone," Sam said quickly. Too quickly. "And I lost, all right?"

"That's bullshit," Carly replied sharply. "Did your mother do this? Is she ... is she back on ..." She had trouble finishing the sentence. She simply _knew_. Her voice thickened with sadness. "My God, Sam, why didn't you tell me?"

"No, my mother did _not_ do this," Sam insisted. "She's fine. Everythings fine."

"Everything's _not_ fine," Freddie interjected. "This is serious, Sam. You can't live like this. If something's going on at home we have to do something about it."

Sam stared at him with overbright eyes, suddenly looking far older than she was. "Okay, Benson. Like what? Let's say there was something going on at home, my home. Should I call the cops and get put in foster care? Become a ward of the state? Because we all know how wonderful that is. Do we get my mother arrested so I can now be an orphan? Do we tell the prinicpal at school and he calls Child Services and it's the same thing? Do I move in with you and your mom? I'm sure she'd love that. Do I move in with Carly and they not only question Spencer for taking in a minor without informing the police but they end up taking Carly away from him too? Huh? Are these good options? Are they?"

Freddie was taken aback. He shook his head. "There has to be something we can do."

"There isn't!" Sam cried, running her hands through her hair, wincing when her fingers snagged on deep tangles. "Don't you think I've gone over it all in my head a million times? I just have to figure out how to get rid of the asshole she's seeing and then she'll get better and everything will come back to normal. So let me do this my way, okay!"

"It's that guy," Carly said. "He got your mother hooked back on drugs, didn't he?"

"Yes." Sam flopped down onto one of the bean bag chairs. She rubbed her eyes, knuckling them like a child. "He's got to go. If I can get the cops to take him out of there without busting Mom I can get her the help she needs."

"That's kind of a big order for a kid, don't you think?" Freddie replied sharply. He was horrified, sad and furious, all at once. "A parent needs to take care of you, not the other way around."

"Yeah, in a perfect world but I hate to break it to you _Fredward_, the world isn't always perfect, no matter what your mother says," Sam spit out. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Your not disappointing us, Sam," Carly said, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She tugged her into a tight hug. "We love you and want to help."

"Then let me do this my way, all right," Sam begged, curling into Carly's embrace. "Please. I can handle this."

Freddie nodded pointedly at her bruised arm. "We can see how well."

Carly shook her head at him and he immediately quieted. Freddie rarely questioned Carly's handling of Sam; she'd always known what she was doing in that regard. "We'll figure something out," she soothed, rocking Sam in her arms.

Carly's voice was silky sweet but her face was set in rock-hard determination.

xxxx

tbc ...

**Reviews are what keeps typing fingers, well, typing. Thanks for reading and to all those who let me know they've enjoyed this so far.**


	6. Chapter Six

It was a gloomy Saturday, suitible for Freddie's mood. He stirred his breakfast listlessly as his mother watched him with her worried hawk eyes. "Is the milk too cold?" she asked.

Normally, he'd be annoyed. But after what he discovered about Sam the day before he was decidely grateful for a parent whose only sin was loving him a little too much. "It's fine, Mom," he said, scooping a mouthful in and smiling around it.

She smiled back. "Good. Oh, and Freddie? Don't slouch. You'll develop a hump."

"Yes, Mom."

He cleaned up and surfed the Internet aimlessly for a while before shutting the laptop down. Nothing was helping; he couldn't stop thinking about Sam. How miserable she looked, how hard she tried to hide her pain and his heart clenched a little. There was no doubt about it -- Sam was crass and annoying and a million other things that he swore he couldn't stand but for some reason he couldn't help his overwhelming desire to protect her. Maybe that was the most disturbing thing of all.

Freddie shrugged on a sweatshirt. Crossed the hall and knocked on Carly's door. He tried the knob when no one answered and was surprised to find it unlocked. "Anyone home?" he asked, peeking around the door.

Carly and Sam were huddled at the breakfast table together, talking in low tones. Carly started at the sound of Freddie's voice. "Oh, hey," she called out. "Uh, how's it going, Freddie?"

He automatically became suspicious. He knew them well enough to know when they were up to something without him. "What's up?"

"Nothing's up," Carly said quickly.

Sam shook her head. "Carly, don't bother. He'll just annoy us until he finds out."

Freddie nodded. "Yes. I will."

Carly sighed and motioned him to sit down beside them. She lowered her voice. "Okay, but you are sworn to secrecy and I'm not kidding."

"Got it," he agreed.

"This is the deal," Carly said. "Sam's running away."

Freddie shook his head, trying to clear his ears. Surely, he heard that wrong. "What?"

"Just listen. Not _really_ running away. We'll know where she is. There's a small apartment in Olympia she's going to be put up in until we can get an investigation into her mom's boyfriend up and running. We have ... " She paused. "Certain anonymous legal counsel who's going to get this going through the system."

"I KNOW NOTHING!" Spencer's voice called out from the bathroom.

Spencer. Freddie nearly laughed with relief. "I see."

"We're going to try and arrange it in such a way where we can get the jerk out and Sam's mom into the hospital. But we need legitimate police attention first and if Sam's "missing" ... " Carly made small quotation marks with her fingers. "They'll be forced to investigate. And if we have a lawyer already waiting to represent Sam's mom and *not* the jerk ..."

"But Spencer's not a lawyer," Freddie whispered.

"I KNOW NOTHING!" Spencer yelled again. "BUT I KNOW LAWYERS."

Carly rolled her eyes tiredly. "He's knows nothing. Got that?"

"Got it. But Sam's going to Olympia by herself?" Freddie said doubtfully. He glanced over at Sam who looked exhuasted. This had taken so much out of her, he thought sadly. "Are you sure about this?"

"Thanks for talking about me like I'm not here," Sam grumbled. "And yes, I can handle myself."

"It's only for a week, two at the most and it's the safest way to keep her clear while we work on straightening out the issue in her house," Carly said firmly. She obviously had gone over every detail for hours. "She has money, food ..."

"A lot, I hope," Sam interupted.

"What about school?"

"That'll be the first place that gives the alarm," Carly said, somewhat pleased with herself. "They'll start looking into it, then call the police when they don't get a response and the jerk will probably either run for it or be put in jail. As for Sam's grades ..." She shrugged. "It's not like they'll get *that* much worse."

Freddie sat back. It seemed to make sense but he still couldn't wrap his brain around Sam going off to Olympia by herself. She was terrible with money, even worse with food and he could see her easily getting into trouble, in spite of everyone's best intentions. On top of that, she looked awful -- depressed and exhausted. Being alone in an apartment so far away could only make her emotional state worse.

And there you go again, he mentally berated himself. He was becoming obssessed for some reason. Give it up, Freddie, she'll be fine.

Fine. Just ...

He looked at her again and suddenly his mind was made up. It was probably the stupidest thing he was ever going to do but there was no way around.

He wouldn't be able to live with himelf otherwise.

xXx

to be continued ...

**Sorry for the long break. Holidays and all. Reviews are inspiring and very much appreciated**.


	7. Chapter Seven

xxxxx

The bus station benches were hard and not exactly clean. Sam wriggled away from a glob of what looked like petrified gum, hugging one of her bags close to her chest. In spite of her bravado, she was scared and doubtful this plan would work the way Carly swore it would. The fact that Spencer tacitly agreed to the idea had heartened her a little and she couldn't help but be grateful that they were willing to stick their own necks out like this for her.

Not to mention the three hundred dollars in cash Spencer "didn't" give to her. She'd stuffed the money in various parts of her clothing, lining the inside of her sneakers with twenties. That made her nervous as well, having that much cash on her, but she'd deal. She could do this. A part of her couldn't help but worry about her mother; how'd she react to find out that Sam was missing but if that's what it took to shake her out of this ...

"Hey."

She ignored the voice to her left. Probably just a hobo wanting money and she was sorry, but there was no money to spare.

"I said, hey."

Sam sighed and rolled her eyes. "Look, pal ..." she started, turning and gaping when she saw who was sitting next to her, backpack in hand. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Freddie shrugged. "Waiting for the bus to Olympia."

Sam's expression went from boggled to irritated in minus ten seconds flat. "Are you a doofus or the *biggest* doofus on Earth? No, wait ... don't answer that." She blew out a long, frustrated breath. "Go home, Benson. I don't know what's gotten into you but whatever it is let Carly deal with it. I'm not in the mood."

"Sorry, but no. I'm coming with you."

Freddie coming to Olympia with her. How ludicrous and Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Right. Because you're such a free spirit. You'll be crying like a baby in a wet diaper about ten minutes into the bus ride."

"I don't think so," Freddie said with a strange confidence. He put his backpack on the floor and leaned back in the chair, fingers laced behind his head. "In fact, I think me coming with you is the best way to make sure this insane plan works."

"How do you figure that?"

"I can help you budget, use whatever technology is available to keep in touch with Carly without giving away your location and ... " He paused, looking like a batter about to hit a home run. "Once my mother finds me missing, she'll conduct a search all her own."

Sam thought for a minute, letting his words sink in. "How is that a good thing?"

"Do you want to be that guy when my mother decides to go over your house to look for me?"

Sam's eyes widened. "Oh ... my ... god," she breathed. A wicked grin spread over her face. "That would be *sweet*."

Freddie smiled. "It's the revenge that will keep on giving."

"You know Fredward," Sam said, smiling broadly for what felt like the first time in months. "Sometimes, you're okay."

"I know," Freddie rejoined smugly. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Freddie's grin faltered slightly. "Um, they have bathrooms on this bus, don't they? My bladder is kinda ..."

Sam sighed. "Jesus."

"Oh, I'm just kidding," Freddie insisted weakly. The announcement crackled over the station intercom that the bus for Olympia would be leaving from Terminal Six in ten minutes. "That's ours, right?"

"Yep," Sam said, rising and slinging her backpack over her shoulder, watching as Freddie followed suit. She put her palm against his shoulder. "Listen, just because I'm letting you come with me doesn't mean that we're going to be some great buddies on this trip. You have to deal with whatever happens yourself and I'll do the same. And as for the food ... " She paused. "It's mine. All mine. As long as you remember that, we'll be fine."

"You're a real pal," Freddie said with a grimace. "Don't worry, I won't snipe your bologna."

"You better not," Sam replied, sauntering toward Terminal Six. "Because I bite."

xXx

It was an hour and a half ride from Seattle to Olympia and Sam slept nearly the entire way, snoring loudly in her seat. Freddie refrained from nudging her -- she was tired and needed the rest. He wondered vaguely what the apartment was like and a tiny bit of excitement filled his heart at being on his own for the week.

It was a real adventure, the first one he'd ever had and while he knew his mother would freak, it wasn't really all that bad. It was like a vacation, minus the tick baths and Freddie watched the scenery fly by the windows, smiling.

Not only that but how impressed would Carly be when he came back with Sam safe and sound, money not all spent, food not devoured on the first day? She'd wonder how she'd ever lived without him and then ...

He felt something heavy fall onto his shoulder and winced as Sam's snoring suddenly became almost unbearably loud.

"Hey!" Freddie turned around to see Sam's head on his shoulder, snoring, her mouth wide open. There was a little drool on her cheek, making its way down to his shirt but he made no move to dislodge her.

She looked very young and very sweet, something he couldn't normally say about her. Her soft hair tickled his cheek and Freddie found it impossible to resist the urge to lean back against the top of her head. It was easy then to close his eyes and he hardly knew what he was doing when he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

He slept then, as the road rolled by beneath them, the sun rising higher over Olympia.

xXx

to be continued ...

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	8. Chapter Eight

The studio apartment was small, bordering on tiny. Freddie dropped his backpack on the floor next to Sam's, grimacing as, together, the bags covered nearly the entire floor. It made his mom's apartment back in Seattle look like a palace but it was clean and warm and had a tiny kitchen with a decent-sized refrigerator, not to mention a pretty awesome view of downtown Olympia.

Unfortunately, the living room was also the bedroom, with the couch converting into a queen-sized pullout bed. There were clean towels and sheets laid out on the kitchenette counter, courtesy of whoever owned the place. It was probably a sublet, Freddie guessed, walking over to take a peek through the kitchen cabinets.

"Everything in there is mine," Sam called out from the couch. The television was on, remote already clutched in her hand. Freddie wondered how she made herself at home so easily but Sam was an adaptable sort -- he supposed she had to be.

The thought sobered him. "Want me to make lunch?"

Sam glanced at him. "You can cook?"

"It's either that or eat my mother's fish loaf three times a week."

"Ah." Sam nodded knowingly. "You're starting to impress me a little, Benson."

A tiny nugget of Sam-praise and Freddie felt himself beaming with happiness. He dug through the freezer and found some hot dogs, as well as a large can of baked beans in the pantry. A little chopping, a little spicing with brown sugar and fresh mustard and it wasn't long before the smell of hot dog casserole filled the apartment.

Sam licked her lips unconsciously and got up, sniffing through the kitchen like a hungry puppy. "If that tastes one-tenth as good as it smells," she said, digging around the drawers for a spoon. Made a pleased noise when she found one and it was only Freddie's blocking of the oven door that stopped her from devouring lunch half-cooked. "What?!"

"Just relax. Patience is a virtue," Freddie said, shooing her away with the oven mitts. "It's better when it's done. On a plate. Sitting at the table."

Sam's lip curled disdainfully. "It's all the same. It doesn't matter how or where you eat something." Grumbling, she threw herself back on the couch, arms crossed over her chest. "I'm hungry."

"You'll survive," Freddie replied smoothly. He searched for the plates and set them atop the small dinette. A little more digging produced a thick white candle which he placed in the middle of the table along with a violet plant that had been sitting above the kitchen sink. Some napkins and silverware completed the table setting and he ignored Sam's sulking glares. Maybe she wasn't used to a proper meal but there was no reason he shouldn't give her one; it would make her feel better in spite of it all.

Bubbling along the edges of the baking dish indicated the meal was done. He pulled it out carefully, making sure not to drop it even as Sam pushed past him to get to the meal. She grabbed her fork and spoon and banged them on the table in an imitation of a convict demanding supper. "Hungry!"

Freddie rolled his eyes and sighed. "Dig in."

She spooned half of it onto her plate and started taking huge mouthfuls, near boiling as it was. "Itsth gud," she muttered around a stuffed mouth. "Reilee gud."

Freddie sat down and put a spoonful onto his plate, watching as she started licking hers before scraping the baking dish for more. "Glad you like it," he said, laughing softly to himself. He poured water into two wine glasses he'd found at the top of the cabinets and held out his in a toast. "To hoping this works."

Sam's chewing slowed down. She examined him thoughtfully before raising her glass. "To eating at the table. It's not as pointless as I thought."

"Why, thank you," Freddie said, pleased. He took a sip of the water, nearly choking when Sam switched her empty plate for his full one. "Hey! That's my lunch!"

"I know. That's why I like eating at the table. Makes it easier to take it," Sam said without remorse. She got up and ate the rest on the couch, leaving Freddie alone with the dirty dishes.

He sighed and started gathering them. All right, maybe this *wasn't* the best idea he'd ever had.

Except that when he looked over at Sam, with her pretty cheeks pink and warm and a sleepy, satisfied expression on her face, he knew he wouldn't have had this moment any other way.

xXx

The rest of the day passed slowly as Freddie wandered between watching the television and his computer. He didn't dare turn on his wi-fi until he was sure of the security of his connection - that would be the first place his mom would try to check, probably hiring Steve Jobs if she had to.

His mom. A stab of guilt hit him at the thought of her. This was her worst nightmare, her baby boy taking off without her, run off to a place where she couldn't care for him. She was probably freaking out and Freddie tried not to think too much about it. She'd be okay when he got back and he'd make it up to her somehow -- a few weeks of exfoliating oatmeal baths and tick checks when he returned would calm her down.

Sam clicked at the remote aimlessly. "I'm so bored," she said, leaning her head back against the couch. "Let's go out."

Freddie rolled his eyes. "You're kidding right? And let people see one of the stars of 'iCarly' here? We'll be found before the cops even know we're missing."

"I'm not going to stay inside for an entire week. I'm getting claustrophobia as it is," Sam said. She got up and with a few quick twists had her long hair beneath a black knit cap. Took a make-up pencil out of her bag and carefully blackened out one of her front teeth, smiling at Freddie for effect. "There. Not so much an internet star, am I?"

"No, now you're a nut in a ski cap with black wax on your teeth," Freddie replied stonily.

Sam shrugged. "Guess I'll see you later then." She headed toward the door and Freddie made a frustrated noise before yanking on his coat, pulling the collar up high around his cheeks.

He ran after her, the chilly evening air filling his lungs. Olympia was bright and pretty at night, full of activity and he couldn't help but laugh happily when Sam nudged at his shoulder with hers, grinning, her eyes as bright as the stars above.

It felt like the start of a grand adventure.

xXx

to be continued ...

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You guys are the best! Thanks for the reviews and I always love to hear what you think. Thanks!


	9. Chapter Nine

Apollo's Pizzeria reminded Freddie of home, except for the pesto pizza which was something he hadn't known existed. It was disturbingly green, but garlicky and good, at least as much as he got to sample of with Sam devouring slice after slice without any seemingly ill effect.

He got her to hand over the bulk of the cash as a condition of eating out, knowing she'd cheerfully order five plates of ribs at eighteen dollars each without blinking if she had the money for it. The pizza wasn't too pricey and it was worth it to sit in one of the restaurant's cozy corners, listening to the soft local music playing over the sound system.

Sam looked content, glancing around with interest for the first time since the food came. "You know, I bet I could work in a place like this."

"Isn't this just a pizza version of the chili place?"

"Nah. They have to wait for me to come around and serve them. I'm not at their mercy behind some counter. Besides, if they annoy me ..." Sam smiled thinly and spit her gum into her water as an illustration.

Freddie felt his stomach lurch a little. "Do the universe a favor, Sam? Stay out of the food industry."

Sam casually chewed on the end of her straw. "Seriously, I think I could live in a place like this. How much do you think the rent around here goes for?"

Freddie squinted at her. "A lot more than you could possibly make without a high school education. You can't live alone, Sam. You're too young. You haven't finished school. You ... " He paused with a sigh. "You're anti-work." He held his hands up before she could protest. "Which I'm not saying a bad thing. There's nothing wrong with not liking work, real work, at our age. We have other things to take care of first."

Sam shrugged. "People younger than me have done it. You know ... " She spread her hands out in illustration, using an announcer's voice. "He came to America at twelve years old! With a nickel in his pocket! He's a billionaire today!"

"Maybe in the 1800's they did that," Freddie rejoined. "At twelve you were already middle-aged. Sorry, Sam, but you're *not* going to live on your own. I'm pretty sure Carly would drag you back into school by the hair if you tried."

"You think Carly is the boss of me, don't you?" Sam playfully flicked a bit of balled-up straw wrapper at him.

"She's as close as anyone could get."

"What if I told you that I'd listen to you over Carly when it came to something like this? Even though I'd never actually tell you that."

Freddie tilted his head, wondering if he'd heard right. "What are you talking about?"

"Carly doesn't have all the answers," Sam said, her expression thoughtful. "When it comes to reality she can be just as whacked out as me. It's why we can do the show together and it's why you're the tech guy. Because you actually think about how something needs to get done and Carly and me? We just want what we want and we want it now. You have a lot more patience than we do. You think about things. You could make it on your own out here, even if you'd probably turn into the most boring nub on earth. You're stable like that."

Freddie's mouth dropped open. "Wow. That's ... that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"And I'll deny it until the day I die," Sam said, rising up and pulling her coat on. She flipped open the compact mirror she usually carried in her pocket and re-applied some black eyeliner to her front tooth. "Can't go out without my disguise."

"Right," Freddie said, still flabbergasted. He'd never thought she'd noticed any of his hard work and in a few sentences she'd given him more thoughtful appreciation than Carly even. How strange that it would take a situation like this for him to see the other side of Sam, the side she'd push away every time he came into the room. But ... "Can I ask you a question?"

They walked out of the restaurant together, standing side by side in the parking lot. "Shoot."

"Why are you telling me this now? You didn't have to. And why do you never say this when we're actually working?"

Sam laughed. "Because it's a different world here, Fredward. I'm free here, can't you see? Free from school, from my home, from ... " She stopped there.

"Free from Carly?" Freddie asked quietly. "You don't want to be nice to me in front of Carly, is that it?"

Sam grimaced and stuffed her hands in her pockets. She nodded to a nearby alcove where a cold-looking street musican stood playing his guitar. "Look at that guy. I bet he never graduated high school."

Freddie snorted. "No, but he plays all right. Let's check him out."

"Cool."

He followed Sam's loping steps over to the alcove. The guitar player nodded and broke into something a little faster and they started to bounce in the cold, partly to keep warm, partly because it was fun. Sam smiled broadly, her ridiculous black tooth looking disturbingly realistic in the darkness.

They continued to bounce dance, until the song stopped. Freddie bent to throw a quarter in the man's guitar case when he tilted his head at them. "Say, don't I know you? You look like this kid I've seen on the Internet ... "

Freddie felt the color drain from his face. "No. No, you don't. I .... I don't even own a computer."

Sam grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the more dimly lit section of the alcove. "He's a hobo."

The guitarist squinted at them. "No, wait ... I think ..."

But before he could complete his sentence, Sam and Freddie were long gone.

xXx

Getting to bed that evening was a nightmare of logistics that Sam solved with a rolled up blanket placed squarely in the middle of the pullout bed, separating them by at least a full-body length, as well as six inches width of purple polyester.

Freddie was fine with that. It beat sleeping on the floor at any rate.

It took him a while to drift off. Between frightened thoughts of being found by the police -- or worse, by his mother -- and Sam's high-pitched snoring, he found it difficult to relax. He drifted off eventually only to be awakened by what he thought was a bad dream.

Sam crying. Calling for him and sobbing and he felt around the darkness, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Sam? I'm here. It's okay. I'm here," he mumbled, still half-asleep. To his dismay, he realized he hadn't been dreaming. Sam was crying, her knees drawn to her chest, hair askew over her crossed arms. "Sam?"

"I'm okay," she insisted between sobs. "Go back to sleep."

Freddie sat up, fumbling for the lamp on the nightstand. The light was weak and dull, but it was better than nothing. He leaned over and gently touched Sam's back. "Did you have a bad dream?"

She raised her face and he winced at the sight of her eyes, wet and red-ringed. "I'm fine," she sniffed resolutely. "Go back to sleep."

Silently, he handed her a tissue from the box he'd brought and placed by the bed earlier that day. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sam made a face but took the tissue anyway. "What's to talk about?" she muttered between *snorks* into the tissue. "I used to think it was okay having nothing because I had a home. And now ..." She drew a shuddering breath. "Forget it. It's stupid and I'm sorry for waking you up, okay?"

"I don't mind," he replied gently. He handed her another tissue. "I wasn't sleeping anyway," he lied. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me about it? Maybe I can make it less scary. I mean, at least you're not alone."

Sam examined him for a long moment. A thin smile broke over her lips. "At least I'm not alone," she repeated. "That's true. I can't remember the last time that wasn't the case."

Freddie looked down at his hands. "You have a lot of people who care about you. Carly ... Spencer ..."

"But they're not here, are they?" Sam slid back down, looking up at him from her pillow. Her face was pale and oddly beautiful, framed by thick, messy strands of golden blonde hair. "And you are. Imagine that."

Freddie felt his face burn red. He shrugged. "That's my choice."

"I know. That's what makes it even weirder." She shook her head. "Nevermind. Could you put out the light?"

"Okay," he said, reaching over to click the lamp off, turning the room pitch black. "Um, if you need anything, let me know." He paused. "Goodnight, Sam."

Her reply was oddly soft. "Goodnight, Freddie."

xXx

tbc ...

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	10. Chapter Ten

Marissa Benson tapped her fingers impatiently on Spencer's kitchen table, her face set in a grim mask.

Carly and Spencer nervously sat across from her, their offers of coffee, cake, spaghetti tacos brushed aside with a stern abruptness. "We honestly have no idea where Freddie is, Mrs. Benson," Carly gulped, a bead of sweat rolling down her back. "I mean, it's only been a day or so. He might come back tonight. Alone. By himself."

"You think he's by himself, do you? You think it's some sort of coincidence that ... that ... girl is off somewhere as well," Marissa growled, her cheek twitching. "I don't. That little she-devil's led my baby astray, I'm positive of it." She ran her fingers through her hair in an aggravated gesture. "It doesn't matter anyway. " She threw a note on the table. It was covered in Freddie's neat handwriting. "Computer convention my behind. Freddie would _never_ take off on his own. Never."

Carly swallowed past a huge lump in her throat. "We're trying to get the police to investigate Sam's situation. I'm sure if Freddie is with her ..."

"Don't bother. I have my own people on it." She glared at Spencer. "If someone hadn't lost a certain 'item' of mine in Japan, I'd have found him already."

Spencer's eyes widened. "Your people? Um, I'm sorry. But you have 'people'?"

Marissa smiled. "Yes. And there's a nice little check waiting for them if they succeed. A five-thousand dollar check."

Carly spat out her soda, spraying it across the kitchen. "Five thousand dollars? Look Mrs. Benson, I don't know what Freddie was thinking taking off like that ..."

Spencer nodded grimly. "We have _no_ idea what he was thinking."

"But I'm sure he's all right and will be coming back soon. As for Sam ... " she paused. "Sam's been having trouble at home. Her mom is having a hard time with her boyfriend and we think if we can just get that straightened out everything will be back to normal before you know it."

Marissa waved her off. "I'm very sorry for whatever your little friend is going through, but my responsibility is my son. And I'm going to find him, come hell or high water." She rose from the chair, a little shakily. Carly noted how exhausted she looked and a wave of guilt washed over her.

Maybe this wasn't the most brilliant plan she'd ever come up with. _Oh Freddie, what were you thinking?_

Marissa strode out, slamming the door behind her. Spencer put his head in his hands. "We are so screwed if she finds out we're the ones who put Sam up and Freddie's there. Why ... why ... did he do this?"

"I don't know." Carly felt near tears. This plan was spinning completely out-of-control and the feeling made her nauseous. "I guess he thought he could help. I mean, Sam isn't exactly responsible and he probably thought he could keep her from doing something stupid while she was on her own."

"But they don't even *like* each other!" Spencer cried. He yanked at his hair in frustration. "God, I need to call Socko. Maybe he can call his cousin in the force and get them to take this out of the runaway file. They're convinced they ran off together and are trying to elope or something."

Carly groaned. "Great. So they aren't going to deal with the creep in Sam's house?"

"Not yet. I'm going to have to see what other strings I can pull. But I'll tell you one thing," Spencer said. "Your pal Freddie has made this a lot harder than it should have been. And with Crazy Mom on his trail, this thing could blow up in our faces in a really bad way."

A chill of fear snaked down Carly's spine. "They can't do anything to us, can they?"

"When you mess with the lives of minors and help them 'disappear', yes, I'd say so. But nothing will happen to you," Spencer soothed. He sighed. "I hope they serve tacos in jail."

"Oh my god," Carly breathed. Her chest tightened, but she shook it off. She couldn't think the worst. This had to work out and she'd make it so. _ Freddie, why? "_Maybe if I get in touch with Sam ..."

"No," Spencer said quickly. "Don't do that. If anything we need plausible deniability. Just chill and I'll work on lighting a fire under the authorities behinds. Hopefully we can work something out before Mrs. Benson calls the army in."

"They're probably already gathered on the border."

"Then we'll have to make quick with the undercover work," Spencer said, pulling on his pea coat and yanking a knit cap down low over his brow. "Be back later, Private."

"So long, Captain Obvious," Carly replied with a sad wave. She threw herself onto the couch and turned on the television, aimlessly wandering through the channels, her thoughts a jumble. She just couldn't understand it. Why did Freddie run off with Sam? What did he think he could accomplish? Why would he even *want* to spend a week alone with her? He didn't even like ...

Carly stopped clicking the remote. A thought dawned.

Or ... did he like Sam? Like as in *like* Sam.

The thought made her breath catch in her throat. No. That was impossible. They fought like crazy, sometimes really intending to hurt each other and besides, Freddie always liked *her*, didn't he, even if that wasn't going anywhere.

Carly's head started to throb. No, honestly, no. That's not it.

It ... it just couldn't be.

xXx

Marissa Benson paced back and forth in front of the designated meeting place. In her hand was a check for a thousand dollars, as an advance as well as for expenses. She glanced with annoyance at her watch. Still a minute left before her contact would be officially late. She grit her teeth and counted down the seconds.

"Mrs. Benson?"

She whirled around and saw no one. Until she looked down. "Oh, you're here." She pulled the cashier's check from her wallet. "One thousand dollars. You understand the deal. Four more if you're successful, which I'm certain you will be if you're as good with computers as you claim you are."

Nevel Papperman took the check from her hand with a coy smile. "I can assure you Mrs. Benson that if anyone can locate your son, it will be me." He snapped the check happily, his grin broadening, showing teeth. "Oh, I'll find him, you'd better believe it."

xXx

tbc ...

**_Thanks to everyone's who's reading and commenting. I appreciate it so much. If you're still reading, let me know. :D_**


	11. Chapter Eleven

Four days into their new living arrangement and Sam was already pacing the studio apartment like a caged tigress. Nothing appeased her foul mood, not even food and Freddie had taken to trying to keep the place in some semblance of order, as difficult as that was with Sam as a roommate.

With a sigh, Freddie picked up yet another pile of things she'd shoved off the coffee table with her feet. He debated saying something, then thought better of it after a glance at her agitated expression. There had been no contact at all from Carly and it made him nervous not knowing what was going on back in Seattle. Sam's constant restlessness combined with the sheer _isolation_ of their situation had started to grate on his nerves, filling him with doubt.

"You're blocking the TV, Freddork."

Had he mentioned Sam's constant irritability? Freddie rolled his eyes at her command, but moved anyway. He gathered a pile of dirty plates and glasses from a side table and set to cleaning them in the kitchenette where he noticed with a grimace they were on their final drops of dishwashing liquid. Nevertheless, sink was soon filled with steaming, bubbly water and he was in up to his elbows in it when Sam called out to him, her voice demanding.

"Get me some soda."

"I'm not your maid, Sam," he grumbled, trying to scrape a splatter of dried mustard from a plate. "Get it yourself."

Sam made a disgruntled noise and stomped to the refrigerator, rummaging through it, carelessly pushing aside things over as she searched. A bowl filled with leftover chicken soup overturned, splashing onto the shelves and floor. Sam made no move to fix it, she simply grabbed the soda bottle and closed the door on the dripping mess.

Oh great, Freddie thought, feeling his temper rise. "Do you have to knock over *everything*? Or just stuff that will take me hours to clean up?"

Sam leaned against the sink, her face an stony mask. "Aw, poor dork. Is Crazy Mommy yelling at you about the mess through that chip in your head?"

"I don't have a chip in my head," he growled. "And you could be a little nicer to me considering ..."

"I didn't ask you to come on this trip," Sam shot back before he could finish. "I'd rather be alone than stuck with you whining and complaining about some stupid mess. You're a giant nub, Benson." She paused, the soda tilting dangerously in her hand. "A ... huge ... giant ..." The cup was raised slowly and before Freddie could react, the soda was being poured over his head, leaving his hair, shirt and pants covered with cold, sticky liquid.

"Nub," she finished triumphantly.

Freddie could barely speak. Rage shook through him and he wasn't sure what Sam saw in his eyes when he turned toward her, but it was enough to make her back away a step or two. Not that it mattered as his hand shot out and clamped around her wrist, squeezing tightly enough to make her wince. "Listen to me," he said, his voice sounding weirdly low and far away, as if it were someone else speaking. "You can act like a five-year old moron when we're home. But this is a serious situation and I'm not going to let you screw this up. There's no laundry in this building and I don't have that many clothes, so if you dump something on me again, you're going to be sorry. I didn't come here to put up with your usual crap. This isn't the time or place for it, got that?"

Her face pale, Sam yanked her wrist out of Freddie's grip. "Why are you here anyway?" she snarled. "Huh? Trying to impress Carly or something? Trying to show her what a big manly man you are, taking care of stupid little Sam who can't take care of herself? Is that why you're here? Come on, Fredward, tell me the truth, you little wiener! Come on!"

Freddie stared at her. There was something in Sam's eyes he couldn't quite define, a fear maybe that she was hitting the nail on the head, that he was doing this all for Carly. But that was a delusion, one he'd even tried to convince himself of and when he replied, it was with all the conviction he'd ever known. "I'm here because I care about you," he said. "Because I want you to be safe. I didn't want to be back home and not know how you are, what you're doing and if you're okay. I thought I could take care of you since nobody else does." He drew in a deep, shaky breath. "I'm here for you, Sam and no one else. Okay?"

Sam's face crumpled and she took a faltering step backwards. "You're a liar," she whispered, snatching her jacket. She yanked it on haphazardly, not bothering to zip it closed. She backed away toward the door, her eyes wild. "Liar," she repeated, before running out the door, leaving it to swing open in the freezing wind.

"Sam!" Freddie yelled, running after her. He was forced to stop as the bitter air assailed his wet clothing. "Sam, you idiot, come back!" He cursed a little but it was no use.

She was already gone.

Freddie slammed the door shut and threw himself on the couch. Held his head in his hands and tried to rub some of the pain away from his temples. He glanced at his closed laptop and debated for a few seconds before opening it. It would only take a couple of minutes to find an unsecured wi-fi and if he were smart about covering his tracks, how much could one little email sent back home hurt? He could encode it and maybe get some good news he could give to Sam, to get them both out of this place and out of each other's hair.

Then he could forget all about this. Pretend he'd never said anything to her and they could go back to being what they'd always been ... two people who'd barely tolerated each other, nothing more.

The wi-fi light blinked, then steadied. Freddie's hands hesitated over the keyboard. Just one email to Carly.

How much could it hurt?

xXx

The hours passed slowly, a bright afternoon turning into a cold early evening. Freddie felt like a moron, staring out the window every two minutes, searching for Sam's familiar figure through the chill-frosted glass. His heart thumped with worry and he berated himself for it.

It was stupid of him to worry. She was one who'd run out of there like a fool. She was the one who'd soaked him so he couldn't chase her into the freezing cold. This was her fault, not his and why did he always have to be the responsible one?

Stupid Sam and he couldn't help but go to the window again, wishing with all his heart to see her there.

"Damn it," he cursed. Not able to take it anymore, he grabbed his coat. He only had one arm in when the door knob clicked open, making his heart soar with relief. "Look who's back," he said, smirking as Sam stumbled in silently, leaning back against the door to close it.

She was visibly shaking, her fingers and nose turned a strange, shiny whitish-pink shade. Freddie's stomach sank to somewhere around his knees. His mother had examined him often enough to teach him what the symptoms of frostbite were and oh god ...

He quickly lead her to the couch and threw his coat over her lap, tucking it under her chin. Sam continued to shiver violently and he ran through the apartment, searching for extra blankets. "What's wrong with you?" he said angrily, covering her beneath a pile of fleece. "Were you outdoors all this time? Haven't you ever heard of hypothermia?"

Still shaking, she didn't reply. She simply stared ahead blankly and Freddie stopped yelling mid-sentence, watching as a tear slowly slid down her cheek, dripping off her chin. It was followed by others, a terrible silent weeping and he found it hard to breathe, his own throat catching with tears of his own. "I'm sorry," he babbled. "But I swear Sam, I want to help you and maybe I'm doing a lousy job at it, but I meant what I said. I care about you, a lot. Please believe me." His knees weakened a little, forcing him to sit beside her. "I'll go if you want me to. I'll pack up and ..."

"Don't go," she whispered thickly. Her freezing cold fingers clutched at his. "I'm sorry. Please stay."

He nodded, unable to reply, except to pull her close. She didn't resist but curled against him, shivering, her eyes closed. A sea tide of confusing emotions coursed through Freddie as she eventually calmed, her breathing turning light and steady against his chest.

How did this happen to him? How did he go from adoring the girl next door to throwing everything he held dear out the window for a girl who could barely stand to be in the same room as him? And how did they end up like this - her in his arms, half-frozen and crying, both of them apologizing to each other for things a few weeks ago they wouldn't have cared less about?

And why did it feel right? As if this is where he might have belonged all along.

Sam stirred a little against him, fast asleep. He slipped out from her embrace, tucking his coat up a little higher beneath her chin. The sun had disappeared completely, darkening the apartment, leaving no light except for the bulb over the kitchen stove, throwing dull shadows over the walls.

Freddie slipped down to the floor, his back against the sofa, a lock of Sam's long hair lying over his shoulder. He absently combed his fingers through it, listening to the sounds of the radiator's crackling, the faraway noises of the town. He wondered if Carly was going to write back to tell them all was well and they could go home again.

That things could, somehow, go back to the way they were before.

xXx

Carly's email inbox pinged with the arrival of a single, anonymous missive that somehow slipped by her nearly air-tight spam filters.

How very interesting.

Nevel Papperman took a bite of homemade tapenade, chewing contentedly as he opened the hacked email from his computer, reading its thinly coded contents, the sender obvious.

"Oh, Fredward," Nevel said to no one in particular, laughing. "You're making this too easy."

Sloppy, sloppy half-baked techhead work and an hour of reverse DNS lookup would tell Nevel everything he needed to know and then, four more thousand dollars would be lining his pocket.

But maybe after having a little personal fun first. Just a little.

xXx

tbc ...

**Thanks for reading! As always, feedback is appreciated. :D**


	12. Chapter Twelve

xXx

Sam awoke with a crick in her neck and Freddie's head on her lap, the rest of him curled around her like a puppy. She tried to stretch the kinks out and it was no use, everything hurt, including her head, as well as her heart.

It took some effort but eventually Sam slipped out of Freddie's grasp. Yanking a blanket from the couch, she tossed it over him where he lay, letting him sleep. There was something about him that unnerved her, such strong loyalty, combined with a devotion she couldn't pretend to understand. It confused and aggravated her, frightened and astounded and Sam Puckett found herself torn between pushing Freddie away as hard and far as she could and pulling him so close, he'd never be able to leave.

She'd asked him stay. Maybe she was out of her mind to but the words had come of their own accord. It had been horrible day, wandering through the freezing cold, trying to escape, finally realizing there was nowhere to go. Sam learned this lesson the hard way and she found herself drifting away in the span of hours, with the knowledge that Freddie was waiting for her as her only anchor to shore. She wanted to ask him why he did it. Ask him how he could possibly want to stay by her side, as worthless as she was but he'd said it all already, she simply hadn't listened.

She was worth something. To him.

What a frightening ... amazing ... thought. Sam knelt by his side and without thinking, ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his smooth forehead. "I'm sorry," she whispered again. Taking a deep breath, she bent down and kissed him lightly on the cheek, only a little nervous when he shifted in his sleep. "Things are going to be different between us from now on, Freddie. I promise."

And what better way to make good on that promise than with a breakfast run she thought, scribbling a note and putting it under his nose, telling him she was headed to the bagel shop and would be right back. Because, of course, he'd worry and fret if he didn't know, not that she hadn't given him enough excuses to be worried.

Sam shrugged off her hoodie and put on a heavier coat, remembering the terrible cold of the day before. Tiptoeing out the door, she glanced back at Freddie and smiled. It's not like she'd never make fun of him again -- he probably wouldn't survive it.

But things _were_ going to change, for the better.

Shutting the door quietly behind her, Sam made her way down to the street and up to the bagel store, some six blocks away. It was a sunny morning, especially nice in the usually gloomy Pacific Northwest. Warmer too and she almost regretted the heavier coat.

There was a park around the corner she hadn't noticed before. She stared at it for a minute, gazing at the swing set with a childish yearning until she finally gave in to the urge and jumped on an empty seat, standing and swinging high, her heart soaring.

It's going to be all right, she chanted inwardly. All right for me and Freddie. It's all good in a good world, just us two and we're going to make it. He cares for me, he's not going to let me down. I have someone I can count on for the first time in my life.

The bare trees were a blur as she stared up at them, her eyes watering in the wind. She bent her knees again and it felt like flying, making her happy. It was easy to jump off, not so easy to land and Sam groaned a little at the throb echoing through her legs.

Not the rubbery kid you used to be, Puckett, she thought, limping away and laughing to herself.

Unfortunately, her stop at the park had pushed the time into the rush hour and Sam groaned when she saw the line outside of the bagel shop curl out nearly to the corner. "What kind of jank town is this?" she muttered, getting on the end of the line. "One bagel shop for the whole place? Lame."

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Sam settled into waiting, looking forward to getting back home for the first time ever.

xXx

Freddie woke up on the floor, nearly smothered beneath a blanket, his hair sticking up in every direction. With bleary eyes, he glanced around, his heart skipping a beat when he saw that Sam wasn't there. He was just about to curse a blue streak when he noticed the note on the floor, scrawled in Sam unmistakable handwriting.

"Went to get breakfast at the bagel store. Don't expect this every day. I'll be back whenever I'm done. Nub you, Sam."

"Nub you?" he asked aloud, then decided he didn't want to know. He folded the note up and tucked into his pocket. He stumbled to his feet and folded the blanket reflexively. The apartment seemed warmer today so he turned down the heat and rubbed the feeling back into his arms and legs which were still tingling from his awkward sleep.

Freddie guessed she was doing better, he'd hoped they'd be able to talk this morning just to clear the air even things still weren't clear, not by a long shot. His own confusion had given way to something like acceptance, at least where his feelings for Sam were concerned. He cared about her, wanted to protect her and it hurt him to see her unhappy.

If that wasn't love, he wasn't sure what was but he didn't have to go there yet, at least not in her presence. He'd spent so many years convinced his feelings were set in stone, it was freeing to realize otherwise. Freeing and frightening. There was still the little problem with Sam's feelings for him but he could work his way around that - rejection was nothing new.

Besides, it didn't seem to matter as much. When you loved someone, truly loved them, having it returned would be sweet but that didn't change how you felt. Love was there, as pure and simple as air, as easy as breathing.

"I love Sam Puckett," Freddie said softly, feeling the words wind around his tongue, strange and beautiful. "I love Sam Puckett," he repeated, a little more loudly, laughing as he said it. "I love you, Sam Puckett," he yelled and whirled around joyfully ...

Horrified to see he wasn't alone.

xXx

Never big on patience, Sam tapped her foot as the woman in front of her ordered enough cold cuts to feed a small nation. And not one of them was ham, she thought disdainfully as the counter worker dutifully cut three-quarters of a pound of low-fat, no-salt Swiss Cheese, the mere thought of eating it making Sam want to hurl.

By the time she got to the counter, she was starving. Never a good thing. "I need a ham and cheese bagel with butter and mayo, no lettuce and you need to toast that sucker black. I want an everything bagel with extra cream cheese and five blueberry muffins. I want ..."

"Having a party?" the counter clerk made the mistake of asking.

"Yeah, a party of one," she snarled back, her stomach grumbling. "Are you going to take this order before I take a bite out of your arm or what?"

"Yeah, got it," he gulped and got to work.

It took a long time, almost half an hour. Sam was proud that she didn't forget Freddie's breakfast, a toasted bagel with jelly. Just jelly, he didn't like butter - his mother had put a deep dark fear of it into him, showing him pictures of clogged arteries as a bedtime story from the time he'd been five.

Maybe she could get him to eat some, creating a monster. A fat, clogged monster no doubt, except maybe not. He'd been looking all right lately - okay, a lot better than all right and Sam felt her face heat up. That wasn't something she liked admitting, not even to herself because, oh come on. It was _Freddie_ for God's sake and there should not be anything hot or attractive about Freddie ever except ...

Okay, maybe he'd gotten better looking. Puberty suited him well, she could give him that much.

Blushing, she hauled the bags upstairs, hoping he would know better than to berate her for the thirty bucks she'd just spent. She wanted to do something nice for him, she wanted to show him that she knew they were partners now, together in this thing and she would be there for him too, as much as she could be.

He'd given her hope. The least she could do was give him breakfast.

"Open the door, Freddie," she yelled out, her hands red and aching from the heavy bags. No answer, she knocked loudly. "Come on, the stuff's getting cold."

Rolling her eyes, she reached beneath the welcome mat and fished out the spare she'd placed there a few days before. "Hey, Sleeping Dork, I got ..." she started before noticing the apartment was empty.

Empty. It was such a small place and her pulse sped up, her heart in her throat as she noticed that not only Freddie was gone, but his bags as well. There was only her note left, lying on the floor crumpled up and thrown in the corner. Her vision swam for a moment and she felt around the sofa, easing herself down into it, trying to catch her shaking breath.

He was gone. Just like that. After all that crap, after all those words, after everything. He'd made her a promise and then he broke it, just like everyone else. No goodbye, no explanation, he tucked tail and left.

Just like that.

Disbelief, rage and a sorrow she could barely stand all fought for a place inside her reeling soul. How could she have been so damned stupid? To trust ... to .... him, of all people. What had she been thinking? Of course he left, the dork, the wiener, the raging diphthong he was. The little jerk, scared of the big, bad world and thinking it would be funny to leave stupid Sam on her own.

Well, you got me this time Freddork, Sam thought but the words sounded hollow and she couldn't stop gulping back tears. _You got me real good_.

"But never again," she whispered, her mouth twisting with sobs that she wasn't going to let out. "Never, ever again."

xXx

Of course he'd rented a limo, Freddie thought, staring out the window of the car, his hands balled into fists. He was going to kill him - not now, but as soon as he got the chance, where no one else would see him do it.

Not that anyone would blame him for killing the little weasel. The hateful, smirking ...

"Sparkling water?" Nevel asked, holding out a champagne flute to Freddie. He whisked it back without waiting. "Never mind, there's only enough for me. Not that I can't buy more. I must say, Freddie, your mother is very generous when it comes to minding you. Five thousand dollars might be enough to let me start that haberdashery."

"Shut up, Nevel," Freddie growled. God, it had been so close, he'd never packed so fast, nearly shoving Nevel down the stairs in a rush to get him out of the apartment before Sam came back. He hadn't had time to write a note even, but that was okay. Once he was away from the stupid troll, he'd call her and explain. He couldn't let Nevel know that she'd been there - nothing would make the little freak happier than to get Sam put in foster care or worse, get her sent back to her mother while the situation was still as dangerous.

"Oh, don't be so sad. I consider this a social service," Nevel simpered, before laughing obscenely. "You thought I couldn't find your little encrypted e-mail. Honestly, Fredward, when will you admit that I'm simply better at all things technical and always will be."

Freddie simply stared at him. He couldn't remember hating someone as much as he hated Nevel at that moment and frankly, didn't want to. He just wanted to get to a place where he could call Sam and tell her what happened. Make sure she'd be okay.

Maybe make it back to her when the time was right, to hell with Mom's insanity.

"Anyway, I think I'll make your mother pay me a bit extra for transportation," Nevel continued. "At least ... ugh!"

The hand Freddie dug into the front of Nevel's shirt twisted slowly until it was tight enough to turn Nevel's face a bright red. "I ... said ... shut ... up," Freddie rasped, giving the little rat one good shake before letting go. He sat back and stared out the window, his foot tapping nervously.

Only a few more hours and then he could call. Only a few more miles.

Everything would be all right. It had to be.

xXx

to be continued ...

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, real life interfered. Thanks for the feedback and the readership. I'm determined to finish this, so I appreciate all the support.**


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